


Destined

by IAmANonnieMouse



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Pre-Canon, With a dash of post-canon, Yusuf POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:13:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27660509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmANonnieMouse/pseuds/IAmANonnieMouse
Summary: Yusuf has always been destined for greatness.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13
Collections: InceptGen





	Destined

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly can't even remember why I started writing this. I think my brain just...got thinking about Yusuf, and suddenly, a fic was born, and most of it was written in my head at five in the morning, and then I fell back asleep.
> 
> And then, in classic writer fashion, I forgot bits and pieces in the middle, so when I finally sat down to put these words to paper, the fic changed quite a bit. I don't really know what to call this, but it was fun to write so there!
> 
> Written also for the InceptGen fest that's going on until Nov. 30! Yay for more gen fics!

In his youth, Yusuf’s mother pulls him aside and kneels in the dirt and says, “You are so smart, my darling. So bright. With that mind of yours, you will do great things.”

That afternoon, he chases chickens around the yard until he falls face-first into the mud. By the time he sits down to dinner, the mud has hardened into a thin shell that crumbles as he eats. His father sighs, his mother smiles, and Yusuf beams, because he is going to do great things.

In his teens, he discovers chemistry, and he takes it upon himself to enhance his knowledge at home, despite the fact he has no knowledge and no supplies.

He only singes one pair of eyebrows that year—and they aren’t even his own.

Years later, he leaves for college—much to the relief of his siblings and chickens—and then, once he has his degree, he just…keeps going. He bounces between continents and timezones, assisting in labs, then taking on independent jobs.

Working as a freelance chemist isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It mostly consists of Yusuf offering to create formulas for people and sometimes running quickly away when he speaks to the wrong kind of person.

For a man who was never athletic, he gets very, _very_ good at running.

But then one day, a man hands Yusuf a paper, listing ingredients Yusuf never would’ve thought to combine, and asks, “Can you make this?”

Yusuf says, “I can try,” and he does.

When the man comes to pick it up, he hefts a battered silver briefcase onto the counter and says, “I am going to test the compound first. If it is satisfactory, we can continue this negotiation.”

Yusuf blinks and says, “Okay.” 

“Do you have a back room?” the man asks.

He takes his silver briefcase with him. Yusuf nervously pats his cat, Mendeleev, until she nips at his fingers. Nobody's ever _tested_ his compounds before. Or used the phrase _continue this negotiation._

Five minutes later, the man re-emerges from the back room and says, “Can I put you on retainer?”

And that’s how Yusuf starts making Somnacin before he’s even heard the words ‘dreamshare community.’

*

Business starts picking up. The man who put Yusuf on retainer has a lot of friends, apparently.

Yusuf saves up his earnings and buys himself a little shop. He puts glass bottles in the windows and spends his days experimenting with various chemicals for fun, while selling that mystery compound by the bucketfuls. (He’s a pro; he only singes the ends of his hair these days.) 

He understands the formula now, sees the components mean to sedate, to enhance brain function, to connect. He starts tweaking parts, here and there, and gives them to his first ever customer to try for free.

The man never explains what the compound does, but he takes every custom blend that Yusuf makes and comes back for more.

*

It’s a quiet morning, just Yusuf and his chemicals and his cat, when his door flies open and a thief struts in, all smiles. His shirt is rather blinding, and his eyes scan Yusuf’s shop in one quick, practiced motion, but he’s got one of those silver briefcases all of Yusuf’s clients seem to have, so Yusuf doesn’t send him away on sight.

“Lovely morning,” the man says with a grin. “I hear you’re the chap making custom blends of the compounds, eh?”

“Ah,” Yusuf says, “yes, I suppose—”

“Excellent.” The man lifts the briefcase and sets it on the counter with a dull thud. “You’ve been in the business this long, mate, I say you’ve earned one of these for yourself.”

Yusuf stares. “I...I really couldn't pay—”

“Nonsense, this is free of charge!” The man waves his hands grandly, then doffs an invisible hat. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have things to steal, places to be. I'm sure you understand how it is. Ta!”

He blows back out the door like a whirlwind, and in the silence he leaves behind, Yusuf tilts his head at the briefcase, then turns to Mendeleev and says, “Did you see that?”

Mendeleev rolls over and starts to groom herself, looking unimpressed as only a cat can.

*

Two Government Agents knock on Yusuf's door the following day. Of course, they don't introduce themselves as Government Agents, but Yusuf's seen enough American films to know better.

It’s all in the jackets.

"Good afternoon, sir," says Agent One. "We're looking for these men. Have you seen them?"

Agent Two shoves a piece of paper in Yusuf's face, and on it are two mug shots, both of their names blacked out underneath. One of them is the thief who gave Yusuf a PASIV yesterday.

Yusuf thinks he should maybe start getting worried.

"What have they done?" he asks.

Agent One says, "They are responsible for the destruction and theft of government property."

"And the deaths of countless innocent men and women," Agent Two finishes.

"Ah," Yusuf says.

The Agents look at him expectantly.

"I haven't seen them," Yusuf says. 

They stare.

"Really," Yusuf says.

"Hm," Agent One says.

Agent Two grunts.

They leave a moment later, and Yusuf sags in relief.

*

The thief comes back two weeks later. Yusuf has spent every hour of those days poking and prodding at the device in the briefcase, trying to figure out what all the wires and buttons do.

But, well. Yusuf didn't go into engineering for a reason.

"Morning, mate!" the thief calls. "Has a lovely lad been asking after me by any chance?"

"Two, actually," Yusuf says.

The thief blinks. "My, he moves quickly."

"They had photos of you and another man."

"Compromising?" the thief asks hopefully.

"Mug shots," Yusuf admits.

The thief blows a raspberry. "Did they tell you that we're evil masterminds threatening the nation's security?"

"They said you killed people," Yusuf says. "Should I be worried?"

"Depends. Are you going to take advantage of my youthful innocence and lead me into a life of crime, only to screw me over when I'm of no use to you and label me a felon?"

Yusuf blinks. "N-no?"

The thief smiles. "Then we'll get along marvelously. I'm Eames."

"Yusuf."

Eames grins and leans closer. "So," he says slowly. "Do you want to learn how to work that thing?"

Yusuf, obviously, says yes right away.

Mendeleev glares at him from her perch in the window, but he ignores her. She’s always unimpressed with him.

*

The device hacks into people's dreams. The compounds Yusuf has been creating suddenly make more sense.

Eames stretches the limits of the dreamscape, building Yusuf stairwells in infinite loops and hallways the twist and twine. 

"Want to see what I can do?" Eames asks, grinning widely.

He opens a door that hadn't been there a moment before. Inside is a room of mirrors. 

"Watch," he says, and he transforms right in front of Yusuf's eyes.

"Bloody buggering fuck," Yusuf blurts. “Show me more.”

*

Eames stays on Yusuf's couch for a week, eating all of Yusuf's food and leaving his wet towels on the bathroom floor and being an all-around nuisance.

But he also teaches Yusuf everything he knows about the PASIV and shows him what his compounds do, and Yusuf decides he can put up with a couple dirty towels or ten for the sake of knowledge.

When he’s bored of staying in one place for too long, Eames blows back out the door, and Yusuf settles back into the quiet of his life without a talkative thief squatting in it.

It's surprisingly lonely, he realizes. Just him and Mendeleev and his chemical compounds.

But before he can get _too_ lonely, Agents One and Two come back. And they burn down his shop.

*

Two days later, Yusuf is putting down payment on a new apartment and asking Mendeleev not to start scratching the furniture right away.

He puts her down, and she makes a beeline for the couch. Of course.

"Mendy," he calls half-heartedly, but he already knows he's lost this battle. 

Then, someone knocks on his door.

Yusuf opens it, and finds himself staring at the other man on that sheet of paper Agent Two shoved in his face, way back when. 

"Hi," Yusuf says awkwardly. "Eames isn't here."

"I know,” the man says. “I'm just here to give you this." He extends an envelope. "Eames was sloppy, so think of this as an apology. And we took care of Locksley and Burke, so you don't have to worry about them burning down your new shop"

Yusuf takes the envelope. "My...new shop?”

The man nods at the envelope. “Papers are all signed.”

“I didn’t sign anything,” Yusuf says.

The man smiles. “I took the liberty of purchasing some things for you in advance. I hope they suit.”

He slips away without another word, vanishing before Yusuf can finish offering him a drink.

Yusuf opens the envelope, and stares.

It's the buyer's agreement to a store, just minutes from Yusuf's new apartment. It also has a perfect copy of Yusuf’s signature at the bottom.

Yusuf starts to think that maybe he should be a little more concerned about consorting with dream thieves.

But then again…

He clutches the papers close.

He’s always been destined for greatness.

*

The shop is gorgeous. It’s bigger than Yusuf’s old one, with much more space in the basement as well. There are rows and rows of cots lining the basement, but Yusuf shrugs and leaves them be. He’s more interested in poking at the shiny new equipment waiting in his backroom lab.

The first dreamer knocks on his door a couple weeks later, asking for a play to lay low and a PASIV to dream. “Just for a little,” he begs. “Twenty minutes, at most.”

The second dreamer arrives right on his heels, then the third. Then a fourth. 

They start meeting at Yusuf’s store weekly, and sprawling on the cots in his basement, sharing the same dream. They stay under for twenty minutes, then forty, then fifty. Soon, they’re dreaming for hours a day, and Yusuf’s wondering if he should be worried.

“How did you hear about me?” he asks one of them.

“Eames sent us,” she says. “Dreamshare’s on the public market now. Great for jobs, not so great for accessing PASIVs outside of them.”

Yusuf scrutinizes his somnacin blends after that, and realizes what he should’ve seen all along: that cocktail of sedatives and enhancers is as addictive as it is effective.

His dream den grows as word of mouth spreads, and one day, as he’s standing in his basement surrounded by sleeping men and women, he thinks about Eames’ friend buying some items in advance and wonders if they both knew this was coming all along.

*

Life goes on. Yusuf hires someone to monitor his dream den and starts customizing blends to facilitate longer dream times with lowered risk. Sometimes, he goes under with them, to see how the dream feels, but he mostly stays topside and mixes new solutions in his lab.

Sometimes Eames drops by, sometimes his friend does. Agents One and Two never show their faces again, though, and although it is much quieter without Government Agents burning down his store, Yusuf can’t say he’s complaining.

And then Eames brings two men into his shop, and one of them asks about a three-level dream.

*

In the future, Yusuf will look back on this moment and think, _Did you realize it then? How big this would become?_

He will sit in his shop as customers request more and more complicated versions of somnacin and ask each other in hushed tones if they heard about that inception job. He will smile when they glance at him and ignore them when they ask if he knows, too. 

He will use Cobb’s share to expand his dream den and hire architects to build and build and _build_. He will turn down all other offers for jobs, saying firmly, “I don’t go into the field.”

After all, his mother told him he would do great things. But she didn’t say he’d do them more than once.

*

Years later, the bell over the shop door chimes merrily as someone steps inside. Yusuf gently sets down Mendy, who’s gotten crankier yet cuddlier in her old age, and says, “Hello, what can I do for you?”

The customer steps closer slowly, carefully, and says, “Hello. I heard that dreamers come here. Can you help me?”

He takes one more step, and the line shines on his face, and Yusuf’s heart stops.

“You have come to dream?” he manages to ask.

“No,” Robert Fischer says. “I have come to wake up.”

*


End file.
